The Only Exception
by KeyboardBandit
Summary: Elinor Koustis is afraid of everything. Planes, strangers, crowds, performing, and responsibility. But after an unfortunate escalator incident, and an accidental meet-up on a plane, she has to face one of her biggest fears yet. Her idols.
1. Chapter 1- Planes Are Terrifying

I took a deep breath before stepping towards the desk.

"Name, ID, and ticket," droned the woman. I dug through my purse, looking for the ticket. I did have my name, which I muttered under my breath. "Elinor Koustis." I found my ticket and ID hidden in an obscure back pocket, in between some tiny pieces of paper and a business card.

"Here," I murmured, sliding the papers onto the desk. She scanned the ticket and looked at my ID. "Good to go," she said, handing me the papers. I stuffed them in my purse. "Thanks." I shuffled away, into the line to the plane.

"Sections one to five loading on flight thirteen to London LCY in Terminal Nine!" screeched the intercom. I shuddered. My flight was boarding, and it wouldn't be long before I had to get on the metal death-trap. At least I was in business class, it would take a while for my section to be called.

"Mommy! I want my snack!" screamed a little girl. A little boy broke down into whiny tears and yet another kid let out a scream. I just wanted to cover my ears and scream and cry everywhere. I hate planes. I hate planes so much. Did I mention I hate planes?

"Sections six to ten loading on flight thirteen to London LCY in Terminal Nine!"

I balled my fists and checked my ticket. I was in Section thirty. The last one. With about five minutes in between each boarding time, and four pairs of twenty left, there were still twenty minutes until I had to get on.

_"What if the plane crashes?" _whispered a voice in my head.

_"What if the plane runs out of oxygen and you die?!" _the voice screamed. I tried to dismiss the thoughts, but somewhere I knew it was a possibility. Right? Technically it wasn't impossible to crash, even if the chances were slim… I mentally slapped myself. _"Shut up! Just plug in your headphones and stop thinking about it!" _my mind screamed one last time. I ripped out my Beats and plugged them in. YouTube? Of course. I opened up my "Favs" playlist and began to listen and watch.

"Hello Internet!" said the familiar voice of Dan Howell, Internet Hobo. I smiled. My favorite person… "And," the fangirl in me mused, "You might even meet him now you're living in London." I almost chuckled at the thought. Like that would happen. I almost got lost in my fantasies as they called the next few sections.

"Sections twenty five to thirty loading on flight thirteen to-" My head shot up from the screen, eyes wide with anxiety. The line moved forward, the clash of suitcases, strollers, and crying children rubbing against my ears like knives. I felt hot, my legs and fingers numb with worry. Deep breaths… Deep breaths… I closed my eyes for a second.

I can't go back anymore. I have to go.

"Are you OK?" asks someone in front of me. I open my eyes and glance over. Just a flight attendant. I nodded, "Yeah, fine." I dragged my suitcase down the ramp and into the plane, forcing my feet to move with all my strength.

_Thirty A, Thirty A, Thirty A. _

I searched for my seat at the very back, literally the very last row. Most people had moved past me during my little meltdown, so I was almost the last person getting on.

_Twenty, twenty-five, twenty-eight. _

Thirty. I lifted my suitcase into the overhead compartment and closed the door, making sure it would slide around. Then I slid into my seat over someone's lap. I refused to look at them, almost scared to make eye contact with the stranger. Another thing I hate: strangers.

I settled down into my seat, pulling on my seatbelt even though it was too early. Anything to keep me in this plane despite my fear. I clenched my toes inside my converse, doing something to take out the anxiety. I pulled my phone from my pocket and turned to the next video, Dan's "Cringe Attack" video.

"Uh, sorry if I'm intruding, but is that Danisnotonfire?" asked a very familiar British accent. I looked up quickly, but my gaze stayed on the boy.

"Yes-" Oh my God. It was Phil. AmazingPhil, Phil Lester, BBC One Radio Show Host and full-time Interneter. And he was sitting next to me.

* * *

**LE GASP! SO hey you guys, first fanfic! (on FanFiction anyway...) I literally wrote this like twice already, but I'm still learning the system and stuff so I might take forever to upload stuff. Anyway, be sure to like, or whatever you do here. Bye little Bandits!**


	2. Chapter 2- Strangers Are Terrifying

"Wait… you're Phil!" I yelp, my eyes practically leaping from their sockets. No… I couldn't meet Phil. I want to meet them, him and Dan, but actually being with them is a different story. What if I mess up? What if I make a total fool of myself like in that one fanfiction where the girl throws up all over Dan and Phil at Summer in the City? What if **I **throw up all over him?!

"I'll assume you're a fan?" asked Phil. I nodded viciously. He smiles kindly, making me feel a little less insanely terrified and a little more excited. I smile weakly back.

"Can I maybe take a picture?" I ask. He smiles even more, his radiant white teeth shining. I turn my phone back on and lean over closer to Phil, ready to take the photo. To my surprise, he puts a hand over my shoulder just as I snap the picture. I get a warm feeling and smile, a little less scared.

_I'm meeting AmazingPhil!_

I quickly turn off the phone and stuff it in my pocket. "So how long have you been subscribed?" asks Phil. "Hm… I'd say 2010-ish. Hard to say," I reply. He raises an eyebrow.

"Wow, longtime fan then," he says. I blush. "Nah," I mutter. Just then, the captain begins his drawl about safety and emergency exits. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I won't have to use one any time soon.

"Are you OK?" asks Phil. I open my eyes, a drop of saltwater spilling down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away.

"Yeah, fine. Planes just… make me a little nervous." I do my best to smile at the last word. Phil seems a little doubtful, but turns back to the pilot on the screen. I ignore the little man at all costs, deciding the message was only adding to my anxiety. The idea of needing to use the life raft to the left of the aisle was a little too terrifying.

Then the plane begins to move, taxing down the runway while the last moments of the safety video play. I grip the armrests, trying to put all my energy into the current song on my phone. I'm not even sure what the title is, but I vaguely remember the lyrics.

Speeding up, I realize my mistake in sitting in the back. From my position, I can hear the roar of the engines as we get ready to take off. We stop, and I know what's next. Now we'll go barreling down the runway at top speeds and catapult into the sky. Then we start. I suck in a breath and wait for the weightless feeling as we rise off the ground. The plane speeds down and down and down until we fly, rising from the ground. I open my eyes. A bit of turbulence shakes us around, and I clench my fists, making indents in the foam-like armrests. I hope those didn't cost too much.

"Are you sure you're OK?" asks Phil. I'm not sure what to do. No I'm not OK, and at the moment I kind of want to be euthanized. On the other hand, I really don't want to tell Phil Lester I am having a panic attack. My arm shakes a little, bumping his.

"Not really no," I say, sighing. He gives me a look of sympathy, and I stare at my feet. Not out the window, of course. That would probably cause me to have a nervous breakdown and go berserk on everyone in the plane.

"I used to be terrified of being in front of people," said Phil. I gave him a shocked look. How could Phil have been afraid of that? He was a huge entertainer and was the exact opposite of that kind of person. I knew the feeling though. I was still terrified of performing, or even just being on the spot. Once in seventh grade the teacher called on me and I cried.

"Seriously?" I ask. He nods, "The first time on Radio One I practically threw up all over myself. But I didn't, and after a while it got better." He smiles at me on 'got better'.

"I wish I would be able to get over this… Planes have absolutely terrified me ever since I was a little kid. My godfather died in a plane crash when I was five or so," I wince at the word crash, "and I've never been able to stop thinking about it." I release my grip on the poor armrests, revealing deep cuts in the fabric. I brush them off with my left hand.

"You never know- oh! What's your name by the way?" asks Phil. I realize that I haven't really introduced myself at all. Oops. "Elinor. Elinor Koustis. I'm moving to London for at least the next year, probably longer," I say. Phil nods. I like that he's actually listening, rather than whatever other guys do.

"That's a pretty name," says Phil, "And I'm coming back from a visit to my parents in Florida." He had been posting a few tweets about being with his parents.

Suddenly we hit a big bit of turbulence, shaking the plane like a toy. I flinch and focus on the movie screen above me, playing some low-budget movie.

"Do you know what turbulence is?" asked Phil. I shook my head, "No. What?" I asked. Phil shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't think it will kill you." He smiled a reassuring smile. I pressed my lips together. "Yeah…" I didn't want to admit that my fear was totally irrational and really had no reason whatsoever.

I peered out the window and gasped, jumping back from the side. We were so high… I couldn't even see the ground beneath all the clouds. Phil looked out as well, just before I slammed the cover down, shrouding us in darkness. "Sorry…" I muttered.

"It's fine," said Phil. I hoped so.

* * *

**WOW! One review already... Pretty intense! Uh, I forgot your name sorry XD but I'll mention you in the next chapter at some point my friend! And then two people followed! Jesus... Thanks you guys, I really didn't expect all this support so soon!**


	3. Chapter 3- Dreams Are Terrifying

At some point I fall asleep, despite the constant shaking of the plane, and probably me in general. My dreams are a flurried mess of plane crashes and robberies, all happening at once. As usual, at the end of the dream everything turns to HD, making the whole thing a lot more terrifying. Just as a gun is pointed to my head, I'm shaken awake.

"Huh?!" I yelp, probably the MOST attractive thing on earth at the moment. Combing a hand through my hair, I turn to see Phil. He looks worried. "Are you OK? You looked like you were having a nightmare!" I shake my head. "I'm fine. It happens all the time."

I open my phone, only to sigh at the time. There are still over four hours left in the flight. Phil has lowered the little desk thing in front of me and set a cup of water on it. I take a little sip and sit back. "Would you like some peanuts?" asks a flight attendant. I look at her.

"Sure, thanks." I grab the bag and begin to eat, trying to focus on the taste rather than the fact that I'm thousands of feet above the ground. Or the ocean. Or whatever else was below us. Suddenly, thinking of a book I read a while back, I remember the story of a girl whose plane crashes and suddenly she is turned into a fish. My mind begins to wander to what animal I would be if I had to be an animal, and how much of a panic attack I would have if I didn't have a choice.

Soon, I'm thinking about what dog I want to get someday. Maybe a corgi, or a little scruffy terrier mix. I would definitely name it Jake. Who can resist the urge to name their dog after an amazing cartoon character? I heard dachshund greyhound mixes are supposed to have really long legs and tiny bodies like Jake…

Enough of that. I block the thoughts, stopping the flow of my imagination. Some movie is up on a screen, lots of guns and shooting and stuff. Not my kind of thing. I open Netflix on my iPad and turn on Doctor Who, basically my go-to show when I'm bored. I mean, who can get bored of that amazing plot? No one. No one at all.

**/Warning, extreme Doctor Who spoilers/**

"Hello! Okay–ooh. New teeth. That's weird. So, where was I? Oh, that's right. Barcelona!" I smile. Ten is my favorite Doctor, I cried when he regenerated. Literally cried. Although I cried more in the Christmas Special when Matt Smith regenerated. Mostly because of the whole dramatization and hallucination thing that happens. And little Amelia Pond just ripped out my heartstrings.

So I spend the next few hours internally crying because I knew that soon all of Ten's happy times would be over. Why!? I truthfully wanted to kill the screenwriters quite a bit.

…

"We will now begin our descent into London City Airport! Thanks for flying with BluSki Airlines today!" I check the time on my watch. 10:30 exactly. So in twelve minutes we should be on the ground. Phil has fallen asleep in his seat, and I'm not sure if I should wake him up or not. Maybe once we land… Like Dan, I don't want to get in a socially awkward situation like that.

My backpack slides onto my feet as we start to go down, and I pick it up. Might as well start to get my stuff. I slide my comfy red converse on and barely organize the stuff in my army green canvas backpack. I've grown used to the turbulence and shaking of the plane since before, although I still clench my toes every time we move too much.

_It'll all be over soon. Check your address again. _

I pull out the packet of papers with direction to my new apartment, reading through them one last time. I had already memorized the instructions, but the anxious part of me was terrified of getting lost and sold as a slave in Mexico or somewhere. I'm really sure how that would happen, but somewhere inside of me believed it.

"Due to a quick shortcut we were able to make, the plane will be a landing a few minutes early," says the pilot, "We will be touching down at 10:39 London Time. Once again, thank you for flying with us today." The overhead intercom crackles off. I smile. Only about five more minutes and I'll actually be in London. I look out the window and barely glimpse the shining lights under the fog. This is London… I'm actually in London…

Ever since I was a little kid I've wanted to go to England. For a while I actually believed there were wizards like Harry Potter there, and later I became obsessed Dan and Phil and the other British YouTubers. After college I figured that I might as well apply to do set design at some of the theatres on the West End. _Le Mis _had accepted my offer, and I'm going to start in five short days. I'm terrified that I'll be overcome by jet lag even then, but I doubt that. My biggest fear is that I'll be awful.

"Oh hey. Are we landing?" asks Phil. I look over at him and nod. He seems to tell I'm not as scared as before. "You doing better?"

"Yeah." I mutter. He nods. "Good." He stops talking and begins to order his stuff just like I did. He has a little blue bag duffel thing. I stare at the ceiling. _BoredBoredBoredBoredBored._

I only have three minutes left on this plane and I'm bored? Just shows how ADHD I am. I open the window permanently. Now we're below the clouds, and you can see the city. Lights are like constellations across the blocks and streets, and cars snake like golden rivers through the highways and roads. I have a movie moment, and half expect some depressing Adele song to play. That, and I have the urge to write a poem.

"Oh yeah," say Phil, "If you ever need help with anything." He hands me a slip of paper, staring at my wrist. I follow his gaze, and freeze in shock. My silver-grey jacket has rolled up to reveal scars. All of them on that arm. I look up to meet his eyes. I feel tears welling in my eyes and blink them away quickly. No… No… No… I glimpse at the paper, reading a phone number.

"I- um… Sorry. Uh." I stutter. He shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. Seriously, if you ever need help just call. I don't care what time." I slide up my sleeve and hide my entire arm. I want to cry out loud and start sobbing, but that would only make the situation worse. We sit in silence until the plane lands and I rush out. After then, I don't see Phil again. Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I'll call him someday, maybe I won't. I keep the number.

**/OK! SO here is the thingy thing a mabob. ALSO! Te person who reviewed was Scoobydoo1021!** Thanks SOOOO much again! And, woke up this morning with THREE WHOLE FOLLOWERS! Wut?! Bye everyone! Also, planning a new story... Expect it by tomorrow evening! Bai mah Bandits!


	4. Chapter 4- Escalators Are Terrifying

**Two Months Later…**

I'm stuck in line at a gigantic department store, yet again. I try to avoid this situation, but when I'm almost completely out of all the basic food and drink I need, the situation becomes pretty dangerous. As in on the verge of eating my face problems. My arms are weighed down by a million different bags, containing milk, eggs, cereal, coffee and tea and everything else I will need to live for the next three weeks.

"That'll be eighty eight pounds," drones the woman. I hand her my credit card, too lazy to figure out how much I'm actually supposed to pay.

_That's one hundred dollars, right? _

I'm still trying to get a grasp on the whole dollars to pounds conversion. That, and how to not totally stick out as an obnoxious and loud American white chick. I don't usually come off like that, but some people seem to think that just because I'm American I am the epiphany of girly white-chickness. I am ashamed.

I still haven't called Phil. The number is tucked away inside a drawer, using a little secret compartment I was able to make out of paper and tape. I'm keeping a few things there, from birthday cards to business cards to credit cards. Maybe someday I'll call him, but the last two months have been a pretty nice time. I haven't needed help. I'm not sure if I would've called him if I wasn't OK.

"Thanks for shopping," says the woman. I walk away, bags still clinging to my arms. For some reason the checkout is on the second floor, and you have to take an epic escalator adventure to get to your car, and the street. The escalator is packed, with people every two inches. I wait to find a spot on the escalator that isn't occupied by a fat woman carrying multiple sticks of butter or children with faces full of free samples. I am definitely not amused.

Finally I find a place that isn't occupied and slide in. Sadly, this escalator is slow, and by slow, I mean SLOW. I will be surprised if I get off this escalator by my thirtieth birthday, and I'm only twenty-two. So I'm sandwiched between an old woman and a man who smells like cat urine and gasoline. I'm don't question it.

Just then, the man behind me steps on my converse shoelace, and I go tumbling down the steps face-first. My ankle twists on one step while my right eyebrow goes slamming into the edge of another. The woman behind me loudly yelps, and someone presses the emergency stop. We screech to a stop, and I slowly sit up. I feel blood dripping down my face.

"Ow…" I moan, touching my brow. I wince, feeling the giant gash in my face. Someone touches my shoulder. I look up, still holding a hand to my face.

"Whoa. Are you OK?" asks the guy. "I don't think so…" I say, wiping my bloody hand on the leg of my jeans.

_Shoot. I like those. I hope that washes out… _

He grimaces, staring at the cut. "Hm. I think that might need stitches," he says. I put my hand back up.

"Seriously?" I ask, a little freaked out by the idea of having someone SEW on my FACE. He nods, "That looks pretty nasty. Should we get you to A&E?" he asks. I shake my head nervously and try to stand up. Pain shoots through my leg, and I grip the railing. People begin to shuffle past us, no longer interested in my dilemma. The guy looks at my leg, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you move it?" he asks. I rotate my foot, grimacing. That hurts like Hell. "Yeah, but I'd prefer not to." I stand up straight just as an employee comes with a towel. He hands it up over the escalator side and I lean over to get it. Whoa… A wave of dizziness hits me like a brick wall and I double over.

"I think we should go to A&E now," he says. Before I can protest, I black out. Holy crap. This is bad.

**…**

I wake up, staring into the dark brown eyes of the guy from the store. Shit… What happened? Isn't this guy familiar? Nearby someone moans, making me bolt up. The guy sits in a chair near the hospital bed. Is it a hospital bed? Why the eff am I in a hospital? I look around.

"You passed out after falling on the escalator. Doctors say you have a concussion and a sprained ankle." He says. I feel my head. A wrapping of canvas or gauze covers my skull. I touch my eyebrow, and shrink back at the criss-cross of stitches. Gross.

"I'm Dan Howell, by the way. You're Elinor, right?" I look at him. "Dan Howell? Like, the Dan Howell?" If I fainted before, I definitely felt like it now…


	5. Chapter 5- Hospitals Are Terrifying

Dan chuckles. He can probably tell I'm a fan.

_Of course he can tell. You just had a fangirl attack right here! In front of him!_

A doctor walks in, clipboard in hand. He seems to have heard me and (_AHHH) _Dan talking and come to check on me. "So how are you feeling Miss. Koustis?" he asks. I think for a minute, feeling like I'm answering a question on an exam.

"OK, I guess." Just then, I reposition myself, barely moving my ankle and causing me to cry out in pain like a hurt puppy. A wimpy one, at that. "If you don't mind, we would like to perform an x-ray on your foot. We believe it's only sprained, but we'd like to check it just in case."

He moves the blankets off my foot, and I suddenly realize how horribly awkward the situation is. Me, Dan Howell, and a slightly pedophilic doctor in a hospital room… Sound like the beginning of a joke. An awful one. One a drunk, mentally disabled, homeless man would tell.

"Yeah, that'll be fine," I say. My ankle does feel rather broken. That, and it's kinda stuck out at a funny angle. Now I realize why my entire body is throbbing like crazy. Jesus Christ, that escalator must've seriously hated me. "OK Elinor, we're just going to roll the bed over to the x-ray room and take a few pictures," says a nurse, whose nametag reads 'Jill'. She somehow unhooks the bed from the wall and begins to roll it down the hallway, humming "Best Song Ever" by One Direction. I truthfully kinda want to slap her…

As I roll down the hall, I can't help but think of "Unwind", a book that will always haunt my memory with its amazing descriptions of not-so-amazing scenes. That, and "They see me rollin, they hatin." Just a testimony to my scatterbrained-ness. I sit up and look at my ankle, which is an alarming shade of turquoise purple.

"Almost there. Sorry if we jostle your ankle a bit," she says, as we turn a corner and I slide a little to the left. Nearby I hear a little girl crying, chilling me to the bone.

_She probably just broke her arm or something… Not like she's dying…_

The door to her room shuts, muffling the tears. My little bed pulls into a room with a huge machine in it. Is that the x-ray? It looks more like a Transformer… Suddenly I imagine myself being attacked by a giant x-ray monster that shoots, "Oh no! Light!". The image brings a smile to my face. Then it changes to me being completely fried by deadly radiation. Wonderful… Just wonderful.

"So I'm just going to wheel you over to the machine now, you might get a shaken up." I'm rolled over some electrical cords and underneath the giant machine. I was also reminded of some giant machine beast from Portal. The nurse begins to mess with the cords and move over a metal table from underneath the metal monstrosity. "So I'll call the doctor in and we'll get started," says the nurse. I study the x-ray machine, noting each dangerous-looking piece, and each button and light.

_What if the thing like… explodes?_

I try and push out all the 'impending doom' thoughts, and think about how few x-ray accidents probably happen.

_There has to be one…_

I mentally slap myself and push out the thoughts. No. I am not going to die in a freak x-ray accident. Instead, I distract myself with the cool pictures on the wall. A flower, a landscape with a waterfall. Some little picture of a puppy. In the corner sits a little teddy bear on a table, smiling from a distance. Probably for all the little kids jumping out of trees and crap.

The doctor and Jill, the nurse, walk back into the room, talking about sciency terms. Jill presses a few buttons on a medical-looking computer and the room begins to hum with the sound of machinery. I stare up at the giant hunk of metal, unsure what to think. Why was it making that loud noise?

"The noise is expected. Now, I'm going to need you to lay down. I'm going to roll you under the beam," says the doctor. I lay down really awkwardly, not exactly liking the situation. He rolls the bed so my ankle is underneath a little beam of light, and Jill the nurse continues to press buttons. He lowers a little camera-like thing and places it right over my ankle.

Overall, it takes about ten minutes for the doctor to take enough pictures of my ankle. Jill unfolds a wheelchair from a corner and rolls it over to me.

"I'll take you back to your room while Doctor H looks at the photos. We should have the results in a few minutes." She helps me scoot into the chair and puts a little wrapping on my ankle. The pain has subsided some, but it still hurts a lot. I really just want an ice-pack, some pain killers, and a nap.

Then, we pull into the same room as before. Dan is nowhere to be seen, but a vase of flowers on the table next to my bed looks pretty suspicious. When Nurse Jill finally gets me onto the bed, I take a look at the little tag.

_Went to go see about your car. I think it got towed. Sorry…_

_-Dan_

I smile and lay back. He's just too nice…


	6. Chapter 6- Nice People Are Terrifying

Ten minutes later, I'm drugged up on a million painkillers and about to get a cast cemented onto my body. I've decided on an inky black color, since that's the only thing I know will match my wardrobe. The team of nurses now crowding around me seemed a little upset to have to get the black tape out of the storage closets, but I really don't care now. It's not like I wear a ton of black, but anyone who knows anything about clothes knows black goes with everything.

I realize that this will probably ruin work a lot. It's hard to climb up the big towers on set when you have to lug a giant cast around. Now I'll be stuck sitting at the prop tables touching up the chipped paint and bleaching costumes to their colors before actors had to dance and sing in them. Ugh. The costumes, especially the ones worn a lot, tend to end up smelling a little… off.

"You may feel slight pain as we wrap the cast," says Doctor H, "But you're lucky your mate Dan kept your bone in place, otherwise there could've been worse damage." Really? How could my leg have been any more destroyed? The giant chunk of bone sticking out of my leg earlier was not exactly a minor fracture.

I'm not really comprehending much he's saying, as the painkillers have numbed my brain to the point of no sense being made whatsoever. I think he's saying something about Dan's legs? Or is it my legs? Ugh, who knows? I decide to retreat to my own brain, barely watching as the gauze is wrapped around my foot and ankle. Out of the corner of my eye I see someone come through the door, but I dismiss it as some sort of medicine-induced hallucination.

"Hey there! So I have good news and bad…" mutters Dan. I look over at him, probably resembling the morphine-ridden butter sloth Dan from the "I Nearly Died" video. "Bad news first?" I slur, sounding very drunk. My brain is the equivalent of a three year old's right now.

"Your car did get towed… And they want three hundred pounds." I gasp. Isn't that like, five hundred dollars? I don't have that money! I barely earn enough to get food and pay the rent. "Seriously!? What about the good news?" I ask. He smirks. "I just might've paid for half of it." I sit there for a second, my mouth wide open. Why would he do that?

I stare at Dan in awe. "Why?" I ask. He didn't have to do that. Now I'm going to feel all bad, because I'll never be able to pay him back, or even make it up. "I felt like it was the right thing to do, so I paid. If you don't want me to, I can definitely let you pay me back." I shook my head. He did a nice thing on his own will… No need to ruin it.

"No… I mean, thanks. Thanks for the money. It's helpful and all." Just then, someone's phone rings. TARDIS noise… Is that my phone? No… I have the sound of a scream. Definitely wakes me up to some late night calls. Of course, some callers are a little put-off when I answer the phone breathless and in a panic. Just a little.

Dan picks up his phone and begins to talk. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm just helping out a girl. No, Phil, nothing illegal has happened to me, or the girl, or the two of us! OK… I'll see you in a minute." Dan hangs up and sets his phone on the table, next to the flowers.

"We're done with the cast Emma," says a new nurse, "but we'd like you to stay overnight. Even then, we suggest that you don't try driving or working for the next few days." I sigh. Does that mean I have to stay here for the next week? I don't have anyone to drive me home, and there is no way I am going to get on public transport with this thing. I look down at my foot, now heavy doubled in size with the cast.

Nurses begin to wire my foot up to the ceiling, like you see so often in cartoons. The movement still hurts, but I mostly feel tingling, like when someone's foot falls asleep after crossing their legs for too long. Reaching forward, I touch the cast, shrinking back at the almost stone-like feeling.

"So that was Phil. He says I 'need' to come home, but I can come back later," says Dan, "Only if you want of course…" I nod.

"Only if YOU want to come." He smiles, "Why wouldn't I?" I roll my eyes. "Well, bye then." He grins, "Bye."

Why did HE want to visit ME? He had stuff to do, and the fangirls were foaming at the mouths for a new video. Dan walks out and I stare at the cast. How is that even my foot anymore? The black monstrosity clinging to my leg could be used as a club in hand to hand combat. I try to wiggle my toes, and can't. How long am I supposed to have this? This will definitely mess up work. I'm supposed to paint some of the decoration on the top front of the stage in a few days, and that'll be a little awkward with the giant cast stuck to my foot.

"The painkillers may cause drowsiness, so in the next few minutes expect to fall asleep-"

Just as she ends the sentence, my eyes begin to flutter shut. I try to grasp the last bits of consciousness I have, but I'm just too exhausted. I slip away and my eyes snap shut.

**/ UGH! Sorry I didn't post this yesterday. I wrote this on time, but something about it just wasn't right… The "flow" I guess. Who knows… That, and my friend and I are trying to figure out if I'm insane or not. I probably am XD. Long story… Well, bai my Bandits! /**


	7. Chapter 7- Headaches Are Terrifying

**Dan's POV**

I go home, but I can't stop thinking of Elinor. I know it's a little crazy, falling in love after knowing someone for an hour, but something about his girl; something about her that just clicked. Maybe it was her beautiful candy floss hair, or the serious look in her deep blue eyes that told you she meant business, but she was perfect. Even if the first time I met her was when she fell on an escalator and broke her foot.

I'm not sure why I wanted to help her, watching as she fell as few steps down. No one was helping her, not even the man who made her fall in the first place. She was just so… Helpless. I took her hand and helped her up, using the 'first aid' knowledge I learned from Phil in all my years of living with him.

After she passed out, I was terrified. What if she was dead? What if I had killed her? Thank God, the employee came over and checked her pulse, proving she had just lost blood from her cut, and had not passed out. The store called 999 but needed someone to be with her in the ambulance. I volunteered.

When she finally woke up, I was scared what might happen. For all I knew, she could hate me and kick me out. But then again, I could end up as her Prince Charming, her my Princess. She seemed startled, her eyes wide, mine probably just as big. But then she calmed down, staring at me in awe.

"Dan Howell. Like, the Dan Howell?" I remember blushing. I've never gotten used to the feeling of meeting fans, the way I'm like a god to them. If only they knew how abnormally normal I am in real life.

**Elinor's POV**

I wake up with a headache the size of England itself. My head pounds like a drum, and it feels like something is about to spring out of my temples. I rub my eyebrows. What time is it? I slam my hand into the bedside table, searching for my phone.

_Ten thirty…_

Did I sleep all afternoon and all night? I guess meds can do that to you sometimes…

"Good morning Miss Koustis! Feel ready to head home today?" asks a nurse, fluffing the pillows on the bed across the room from me. It was a little scary how the nurses knew my name, even when I hadn't told them.

"I guess. I may need a ride though, I'd prefer to not use public transportation while I have this thing," I say, gesturing at my leg. She nods understandingly, pulling a blanket over the bed. "I wouldn't want to either. If you want, the hospital has a shuttle that you can take, for an extra fee." I shake my head. I don't need any extra fees right now. "Maybe, I'll see."

"Also, that boy Dan, adorable by the way, is down in the waiting room. Would you like him to come in?" she asks. I nod. How long has he been out there? I hope he hasn't been waiting too long… The unnamed nurse walks out, a clipboard in her hand. I lean back, head still pounding. I just want to go home.

Dan walks in, looking around for me. I wave shyly, blushing when he catches my eye. "Hey," he says, sitting in a white plastic chair next to the bed, "How do you feel?" I stare at him. "Like crap." I mutter. He nods, "Understandable." I sigh. "So apparently I'm gonna have to take a shuttle home," I say, tapping out a beat on the blankets. I've always been a bit of a musician, when I was a kid I would sing out my lungs until my mom begged me to stop.

"Oh. I could drive you home?" he says, but asking it like a question. I bite my lip. Did Dan Howell just ask me if I wanted a ride home from him? In his car? With him?

"Sure, thanks, I'll get my stuff!"

**/ So short chapter, sorry about that, busy with mother's day stuff. Never ask me to wrap a present, like, ever. Just don't. And also, thanks for all the reviews and favorites and stuff! It's really helpful and inspiring! Once again, thanks!**

**-Keyboard Bandit, the co-dictator of ramen /**


	8. Chapter 8- Mean People Are Terrifying

It doesn't take me long to get my stuff, as all I have is the clothes on my back and my phone. Dan waits patiently by the door as I learn to use crutches without somehow causing my knee to spontaneously combust. Once I do hobble out, it's been almost half an hour.

"Sorry I made you wait," I mutter, still working out where to put each crutch and my one still working leg. I almost trip a few times, only to be caught by Dan.

"Thanks," I say, after nearly falling into a wall for the sixth time. My foot aches from all the movement, and I lean against an empty bed. OK, need to keep going. We find an elevator a few doors down and take it to the first floor. Dan's car is somewhere off in the parking garage, way further than I would be able to get, so he has to go out and find it. I sit in the creepy-white lobby with a lot of sick and hurt people. Some angry nurse lady asks if I'm going to be there for long, and I shrug and give her an evil eye. In reality, I am totally terrified by her and hope that she goes away very quickly.

"Just saying, your boyfriend is really cute," says a girl no older than fifteen with stitches running down her shirt, sitting down next to me. I blush, realizing she means Dan. "We're not, I mean, he's not my-" I stutter. She smiles, "Well, you should totally be together. Also, how'd you manage to do that?" she points at my leg.

I shrug. "Unfortunate escalator incident," I mutter, scratching my knee, just above the canvas area. She laughs, but quickly touches the nasty line of scars going up her neck, wincing. I frown with concern, "You OK?" I ask. She quickly nods, "Yeah, just had to get some stuff done, nothing too major." She painfully swallows.

I hear a knock on the window and snap around, only to be greeted by Dan's face. I sigh with relief, having thought he was some sort of creepy pedophile or something. Perching up on the crutches, I hobble out the sliding glass door towards Dan's car, an average sedan painted a shiny black.

"Well, bye then, hope you feel better!" I call, looking back at the girl. She smiles, and I wonder what she was having done at such a young age. Sad…

I somehow manage to squeeze into shotgun and throw the crutches into the backseat, hoping I haven't hurt anything. Dan pays the parking ticket and we start driving.

"So where exactly is your house?" he asks. I give him my address and he enters it into his phone, although I have a feeling I'll have to give him exact instructions anyway. We get on the highway and speed up, pretty much quiet the entire time. I notice him glancing at the various dials and numbers on the steering wheel and frown. "What's the matter?" I ask. He bites his lip. "We're kind of about to run out of gas," he whispers, obviously embarrassed.

The car begins to whine and squeal, and we pull to a stop on the side of the road, car still screeching. I sigh. "Well, this is great!" says Dan. He gets out and begins to try to push the car, only to come back in a few seconds later. We sit in an awkward silence, the both of us probably secretly seething. Me at Dan, and Dan at his own stupidity.

Isn't this just great.

**/ Not much to say, except that you don't even know how many times I've almost said elevator. /**


	9. Chapter 9- Storms Are Terrifying

A panic attack is coming. I can feel it.

Thoughts of all the horror stories I've heard of people getting killed while stopped on the side of a road scream at me from the shadows, and I shiver in my seat. The sky has darkened some, and traffic is building up around up. A few cars with businessy people honk at us, but other than that, we're deserted. Dan's been on the phone for the last half hour, yelling at some person. I just want to climb into the seat and die.

Das decides he is going to try to push the car again, this time sticking at it. Some car swerves dangerously close to us, and my breath begins to shorten. I squeeze my eyes shut, and try to take deep breaths, but it's too late.

_I just want out…_

My breaths are quick and close, I'm beginning to hyperventilate. Just like on the plane, I dig my fingernails into the armrest. I'm in full on panic-attack mode now. The sounds of the cars and the radio are drowned out by my own heartbeat, and the thoughts telling me the dangers of this situation.

_What if we never get home?_

I whimper out loud, grinding my teeth and wanting to scream bloody murder. The car lurches forward an inch or two, but nothing noticeable. I let out a sob, and the sound of rain pounds against the windows. Wasn't that in the horror stories to? Some couple was stuck on the side of the road late at night, during a storm? I guess it was only a scary story, but now it's more real than ever.

A crack of thunder flashes through my squinting eyelids, and I jump, the loud sound waking me from my fear-induced coma. Shoot… The window is open, sprinkling me with water. I roll it up, blinking as the mist gets in my eyes and on my glasses. Another bolt of lightning strikes even closer, deafening me and making my ears ring. Jesus Christ… I hate loud noises, and lightning, and storms, though rain is probably my favorite weather. Though, not when it's raining this awfully.

Tears begin to roll down my face faster than the rain outside. Why me? Why do I have to be stuck out here, in the rain, with a man who is basically a complete stranger? Thunder is blurred out with my tears and sobs. We lurch forward another foot, sliding a bit on the water. I shiver, realizing I'm soaking wet from the open window. I strip off my jacket and turn up the heater, placing the wet jacket on the vents. As for my jeans, I don't know what to do about those.

I jump back at a knock on the window, the images of a serial killer flashing through my brain. No… Just Dan. I unlock the doors and he leaps in, soaking wet. His hair is plastered to his face, and his blue shirt is almost black. We sit in silence for a minute.

"Are you- OK?" he asks. I can tell he was going to ask something else… And I think I know what. "Do I look OK?" I ask, wiping my face a little, "I hate this, I hate storms, I hate thunder, and I hate this!" A lump builds up in my throat, threatening to let out a sob. Dan lays a hand on my shoulder, and I turn around. Dan's dark eyes stare into mine.

"Sorry…" I mutter, "I'm just being stupid. I'm always like this-" He shakes his head, "It's not stupid. Nothing is stupid. You can't help but be a little scared sometimes." I sit and stare, shocked. People aren't usually this nice to me when I freak out. Usually they just say shut up, or say I'm doing it for attention. Dan… Just gets it. I blink. "You- you get it," I gasp. He smiles, "I guess I do." Suddenly his face is coming closer to mine, his eyes closed. Wait. What? Is he kissing me?! What. The. Frick.

I freeze, out of fear, anger, I'm not even sure what. I just freeze. What am I supposed to do? I can't just reject him, right? How is this even happening? I don't really even know him, and suddenly we're about to make out.

_Just do it…_

Whispers the little voice in my head, the one usually reserved for worries and depressing thoughts. Wait… I should just do this. Why shouldn't I? With a shaky hand, I lean in, however, I ain't closing my eyes. That would be a little too much for me.

Suddenly, we're kissing, full on, lips touching, making out. His lips are soft, like they're described in fanfictions. Slowly, I close my eyes. This isn't awful, is it? I lean in, and I feel two hands snaking onto my shoulders.

A loud sound fills my ears, and we snap away from each other, staring out into the dark of the storm. As pair of headlights shine from behind us, and I can barely see blue eyes and a black fringe… Oops. Phil climbs out of his car, and jogs to us, an umbrella fanned above him. He smirks and I turn red as a tomato. Dan nervously unlocks the car, Phil climbing into the back seat.

"Looks like I caught two lovers, hmm?" he muses. I blush, lowering my head. There's a very awkward silence, none of us really wanting to say anything, but finally Dan breaks it.

"Phil? This is Elinor. The girl from the hospital."

**/I felt like I was writing something so cliché… With the, "His lips were soft" I was just like, "What am I even doing?!" XD. Anyway, just had to make sure my brother didn't see it and be like, "SHES WRITING BAD STUFF!" and my life become over. ALSO! How are you guys liking this? Any suggestions, advice, all caps messages telling me to stop because I'm not talented whatsoever? Just post them down there, in the review section! I will try to reply but if it is something like, "I lik it is awsums" I'm not going to. Because Seriously? Also, this is getting a little too long, bye!/**

**PS… I might have made a website you should all check out! Just head on over to . !**


	10. Chapter 10- Surprises Are Terrifying

The ride home is quiet and most definitely awkward. Phil is in the other car, a few people away, but I can still feel his stare on me as he opened the door. How did this happen? One moment I'm being driven home nicely, the next I'm having a panic attack, and the next… making out.

Lightning is a little less intense now, only appearing every few minutes. Even the rain has subsided to a light sprinkle, the skies now painted with sunset. I sigh, and lean against the window. This feels like a movie, and something intense is about to happen. At least no dramatic music is on.

We pull off the highway and onto a less busy road, leading to my apartment. A few sidestreets later, we were there.

I am living at a pretty small apartment complex, a sooty brick building that had once been a factory. In the sixties the place had been closed and rooms boxed off to make apartments. The best part was that the place was cheap, so I could live in a non-ghetto neighborhood in my very slim price range. I was also entertained by the fact that a fire escape gripped the side, perfect to sit out on and feel depressed every evening. By every evening, I mean most of my time that isn't spent on Netflix and food is spent out on the fire escape.

"Is this the place?" asks Dan, breaking the silence that has been eating me alive this entire ride. "Yeah, you can just drop me off here," I say, unlocking the car door. The smell of rain is fresh on the air, and the wind feels like mist. As I step out, Dan puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Wait." I turn around, and look him in the eye. He better not kiss me again… Luckily, he does not seem to be in that mood again and simply stares at me. "Can I sign your cast?" he asks. Looking down at the black material, I frown, "How are you supposed to do that?" I snort. Nothing would show up on the dark color, he knows that.

We sit there for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. "Well, I was trying to be romantic and write my phone number on the cast, but I guess that won't be happening." I sigh, cheeks burning red. "Do you want to put yourself in my phone?" I ask. He smirks and nods. I rip the purple-cased iPhone 5s out of my pocket and toss it to him, just after typing in the password. He frowns, "Why don't you have the update? Like, IOS 7 or whatever?" he asks. I roll my eyes. "I heard it eats up the battery, so I didn't get it. Can't a girl just have an outdated phone?" I ask. He shakes his head, "Nope, but I think I can accept that. Here you go," he replies, and tosses the phone back. I'm surprised it hasn't completely shattered with my butterfingers.

"So… Bye then?" I say. He nods, "See you later." I limp away, my heart in my throat. Did this happen? Did I just meet Daniel James Howell, the one who I named three stuffed animals and a microwave after? The man who I wrote countless songs I'll never sing about? Suddenly I want to scream my throat out and cry until I flood the world.

As soon as I know Dan has left the parking lot, I let out a yell. It's not like me, but the occasion definitely deserves it. If I could jump with the cast, I definitely would've. If anyone is looking out their window, I probably look like a complete lunatic. Not that I care, I've already emotionally disturbed all the neighbors with depressing music and Doctor Who screaming through the walls. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I drag it out. Mom… oh no. What could she have to say?

"Hello?" I ask, an anxious edge in my voice. "Elinor Koustis! Why were you in the hospital?" yells my mother. I shudder at her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice, "I fell on an escalator, that's all. I'm fine, just a few scratches. I needed stitches on my forehead; that was it." I feel awful lying to her like that, but I know if I told the truth mom would go insane on me. She would yell, and scream, and probably force me to come home. As scary as London is, I do not want to go home.

"Good girl," says my mother, "But you need to call me! I've been getting worried for you!" I sigh, "I'll be fine mom. Say hi to Yaya for and Papou for me!" I hang up before she can answer. Enough of that conversation. I guess that's what you get with a Greek family.

I travel up the elevator to my room on the top floor. No, it's not a penthouse, as my younger sister thought when I told her I had the top floor. Still, the view of London is worth a million bucks. I unlock my door and trudge into my apartment, the dark and dusty room smelling of home and whatever Greek food I've made in the last few days. I collapse on the couch, shutting my eyes and thinking.

The thing about me is that I can entertain myself with my own thoughts, often slipping into my own little world. I could spend hours just staring at the ceiling and thinking, although it was best to not do that when I was busy with work. I got yelled at on the first day for zoning out and painting an entire crate pink. Luckily, it was a light color and I wasn't fired.

"Hello?" calls a voice, paired by a thumping on the door. I snap awake, realizing I dozed off on the couch. Shoot. Is that my boss? How does she know where I live? I guess I did put it on the application and everything, but still!

"One second!" I yell, hopping up to my crutches and limping to the door, checking myself in the mirror. I open the door, smiling nervously.

Oh no. What could this be about?


	11. Chapter 11- Bosses Are Terrifying

"Hi, Elinor, we need to talk about your job. I heard about your little injury. Sorry about that," she says, "May I come in? Sorry if I caught you at a bad time." Before I can say yes, she bustles into the room and sits at a chair in the living room. My once comfortable flat now feels like a bed of nails. Why is she here? She's obviously not going to give me a "get well" card, and a gift basket. Her face means serious business. I stare at my feet as I sit down on the couch, setting my bulky crutches against the coffee table.

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask. She shakes her head, "No thanks, I won't be long." That's a bad sign. "Ms. Koustis, do you know how many days you have missed since you began work?" she asks. Oh. I have missed a lot of days haven't I… the two I spent most recently, with my leg, three days I spent sick, and one more when I went to a dentist. That's six out of the month, counting weekends, I've been working here. So six out of the twenty days. I guess that is a lot for my first time there.

"Six- Six days." I mutter, still giving my feet a laser stare. "Mhm?" she says, her voice cold and harsh. "Yes," I say, letting out a massive sigh. I know what's going to happen now. "I think you know that in the world of theater, we don't have a lot of time to take days off. So, I'm not sure I can continue to employ you if I can't trust you to come to work every day." Her calm and cool tone with a bit of cruelness stabs into my soul, ripping out my heart. I want to shrink in between the couch cushions and stay there for the rest of eternity.

I know what my boss is going to say before she says it. "Elinor, you are a talented artist in both theater, music and art, but I have no choice but to let you go. I'll give you your last week of pay, but that's all I can do. You can come in the next week to collect your supplies." I feel tears burning in my eyes, and my cheeks sear with redness. This job was the best thing that ever happened to me. I had imagined myself growing old in that job, moving to new musicals and getting promoted. Now it's all over.

My boss leaving and the hours after that are all in a blur. A very depressed, upset blur. I wake up the next morning on the couch, head and heart pounding. My face is sticky with tears and the crutches lie useless on the floor. My wrists ache underneath my long sleeved jacket. My eyes burn, knowing what I did. I feel guilty, as if I've failed myself. I get up, wincing at my leg. I haven't taken my painkillers, so the wonderful numbness has subsided. I haul myself over to the bedroom, crutchless and in pain. In the drawer is a tiny slip of napkin, blurry numbers written on them. I lean against the bed, staring at the numbers, separated by dashes. I slide out my phone from my pocket and press the green app with a phone, typing in each number and pausing before calling the number. With a shaky hand, I press the call button.

"Hello?" asks a very familiar voice. "Phil?" I ask, "I-It's me. Elinor, from the plane." There is a pause before Phil speaks. I hold my breath, praying that he answers. "Elinor? Hey! I was worried." He sounds cheerful despite the current situation, it takes my entire willpower to not burst into tears.

"Ha, yeah, I guess I should've called," I say, with a shaky laugh. He laughs along, but in a different way. Like he knows something is wrong and he's trying to figure out what. "So, what's up? You sound a bit upset," he says, now much more serious, all traces of the previous laughter gone. I take a deep breath.

"I- I was fired yesterday, because I had to miss a few days and-" I burst into tears, sobbing against my bed, phone held up to my ear. I hear Phil talking, but for a moment the only think on earth is my floor, my bed, and sobbing uncontrollably like Shane Dawson's cut his hair. Finally, I'm able to gasp to silence.

"Elinor... Elinor, I'm sorry," says Phil. I'm sure he's been repeating this the entire time I've been sobbing. "Listen, you'll feel better in a few days, just go to your television, turn it on, and watch hours of your favorite show. That's what I always do." I let out a small laugh, "OK. I guess," and begin an epic journey back to the living room. My foot still aches, and the phone is at my ear. The prize of Doctor Who is just at the end of the hallway, and it's all I want at the moment.

I stumble into the living room and take my place on the couch, in my own little indention that I've formed over the month of TV, YouTube, and general laziness. I stare at the TV, and with closing eyes, hang up the phone.

**/OMG SHANE DAWSON CUT HIS HAIR. I'm currently writing an ode to his old hair, but don't expect to see that on YouTube anytime soon… No./**


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